


Dear Diary

by Caranath



Category: Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caranath/pseuds/Caranath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe chronicles his recovery from injury</p>
<p>(Companion piece to Points of View)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Dear Diary

**Author's Note:**

> The events described in Points of view solely from Joe's perspective. I do change the format about halfway through temporarily.

May 3rd  
My name is Joe Hardy, and 2 weeks ago I got shot. In order to be sprung from my prison that is the 4th floor of Bayport General Hospital, my therapist is making me chronicle my 'feelings'. My mental health therapist, not my physical one. SHE is Torquemada and Lorena Bobbit's love child. Seriously. I have got to escape her evil clutches so I shall humor Dr Suitland and play his silly games. He seems to have this misconception that I have PTSD. Dude, have you met my family?! Getting shot? Not a big deal. 

Okay, okay so this time was a tad bit different. This whole not being able to walk thing is putting a cramp on my style, I will admit. But sheesh, not like is gonna be permanent or anything, right? 

Right?!

Dr. S wants me to come to terms with what brought me to this place. So that I can 'move on and heal'.

I got shot. Three times. It hurt. I'd do it again. Although I am willing to admit that next time I will try and not get shot. But the shoving of my brother outta the way so he doesn't get shot? Yeap. Do it all over again. No regrets. Mentally I am fine and dandy, thankyewverymuch. 

 

May 4th  
Hmpf. Dr. S thinks I am not taking this seriously. What does he expect, me to have a breakdown and start having nightmares? I have nightmares. You can't stand on the rubble of what used to be a seaside fishing village surrounded by devastation as you try and deliver safe drinking water to the survivors of a Tsunami and not have nightmares. Wanna know who has PTSD? That 5 year old Japanese girl I pulled out from under the demolished remains of her home where she lay buried under the corpse of her mother for 3 days. Me? Nuttin' wrong with me at all. 

 

May 5th  
I swear to gawd if Frank doesn't quit with the hovering I am going to jab him with my IV and then turn the Morphine drip on high. Anything to get him to just chill out. I get, it Bro, you are feeling guilty and crap. I keep telling you it's no big deal, that it was my own damn fault for shoving instead of tackling. It's done. You don't owe me squat. Now quit asking me if I need anything. What I need is a nap and a pizza. Not you self flagellating all damn day. Sausage. Extra cheese. And bring back some of Mom's gingersnaps too. 

May 6th  
Today is Iola's birthday. It's been almost ten years. I dreamt of her. She called me an idiot. Maybe I am. Doesn't mean I am all messed up in the head. Just because it hurts like hell to breath deeply, or that I can't feel my legs doesn't mean I cried myself to sleep last night. Dr. Taylor is annoyingly optimistic and keeps tossing uplifting phrases at me. Bastard is entirely too damn cheerful all the time. Hello?! Non functioning lower limbs here! Don't talk like I'll be out on the football field by Summer. We both know it's a pile of BS.

May 7th  
Dad came by tonight. Right now he's the only one I can stand to have around. Frank is still full of self recrimination and it's pissing me off. Starting to regret saving his annoying butt. Can't deal with Mom's pity either. Oh she tries to hide it and acts all supportive and loving and Mom Like, but it's written all over her face. Frank won't leave the White Elephant in the room alone and she is totally ignoring it. Dad at least hasn't changed a thing about how he acts around me. Still get yelled at for swiping the sports page. We discuss his latest case that got shoved by the wayside. We talk about that punk who shot me and who is trying to cut a deal. One good thing about being pals with the Chief of Police? Yeah, cut rate thugs who prey on innocent old couples and end up shooting a fine upstanding member of society.. do NOT get deals. Con's pushing for the book to be thrown at him, and his 2 pals. Attempted murder. Works for me. Dad asks me tonight what I will do if this paralysis thing ends up being the way things stay. I had no answer. 

Oh my god. I may never walk again......

 

May 9th

Okay so maybe, just maybe, Dr Suitland has a point. If I was absolutely forced into baring my soul I might concede to being conflicted emotionally here. 

Point: I love my brother. He's awesome. Always been there for me. He'd take a bullet for me. Hell, he has taken a bullet for me. He's also been beaten and kidnapped and all sorts of other stuff because of me. Never complained once. In fact I had to be forced into seeing just exactly how much he has sacrificed for me over the years. So in retrospect, I still do not regret my actions. I owe him. I owe him much more than just a pair of working legs for everything that he has done over the years for me.

Point: I like being able to walk. Like running even more. On the football field, not jogging. That's Frank's outlet. Ask anybody, I don't even sleep 'quietly'; always tossing and turning. This forced stillness is the absolute worse thing about getting shot. Brain working overtime, can't shift to get comfy. Can't escape when I need to get away from little miss Torture Barbie and her Hands of Ice Cold Doom. Can't decide which is worse, the inability to make my legs do what I want without question, or the utter lack of feeling. Dr. T says that once the Morphine is completely outta my system and the swelling goes down, all that will change...

Point: All this uncertainty is driving me insane. Just give me a friggin' prognosis fer cryin' out loud. Once I know the score I can move forward and make the best of it. If I am never going to walk again I need to know now. That way my self pity stage can start sooner rather than later and I can get over myself. Start looking at catalogs and getting my chair all tricked out. And if I have a shot in hell of walking again? Tell me what I need to do to make that happen yesterday. I would willingly succumb to all the Ice Cold Hands of Doom out there if it meant I could be upright in 6 months. 

This morning Dr S. asked me if I had any instances of 'why me' Syndrome. I had to stop and think about that for a minute. Still not sure how to answer that. I mean, I keep telling myself( and Frank) that I'd do it again with no hesitation. I even joke about how I'd make sure to go for his knees next time so the bullets fly harmlessly over my head. But now, today? Lying in this bed hooked up to machines with the uncertainty looming? It shames me to admit, even here where nobody else but Dr S will see, that I wish I wasn't in this situation in the first place to have to answer such a loaded question. 

I am scared.


	2. Chapter Two

May 12th

The other day Dr T asked me how I wanted to 'sober up' as he laughingly put it. Morphine, in case you didn't know, is slightly additive and even the most stalwart of people succumb to it's evil embrace. Now lots of people have no issues at all. And a few do. We had no idea where I fell as surprisingly enough given my penchant for bodily injury I had never been on it for more than a day or so. He gave me an option: cold turkey or a gradual dialing down of the drip. He explained the differences between the two and the recovery time.. Hmm.. almost 2 weeks on the weaning, or about 3 or 4 days the hard way. My name is Joe Hardy and I am the second most Stubborn Man on the planet. Dad still reigns supreme. Of course I went for the cold turkey method. I knew I could hack it.

Which is why at 2 am that night I was begging Nurse Keller to call Frank and get him in here. It's easier to hack anything with your Big Brother there to hold your hand as you go through withdrawal. All those nerve endings that were blissfully asleep? Woke up pissed as hell. I am pretty sure I said a few naughty words to Frank. And I know I threw a few insults at him. And once I clearly remember telling him this was all his fault. He winced, and then held me in his arms as I cried myself to sleep. Maybe that's what he wanted? For me to get mad at him and blame him? I dunno. I will say this.. I am not entirely sure I didn't mean it. So does this make me an ingrate? Two faced? Insincere? 

Took about 48 hours before the cold sweats stopped. And at least I know that the nerves aren't dead. Went from not feeling anything at all to feeling way too damn much. I actually was glad when Tracy my PT showed up with her Ice Cold Hands of Doom. My legs are on fire. With her massaging them they cooled down and made it almost bearable. She promises a hot tub tomorrow. Says I'll like it. I am skeptical. Not thinking warm water is high on my list of things to like right now. Even if it is all bubbly and swirly. Hmm.. wonder if she will wear a bikini?! 

May 13th

Know what I can't stand? A smug Physical Therapist who does not wear a bikini. Okay so the hot tub was nice. It had all these cool directional jets that she aimed just so and really got the muscles invigorated. Just getting out of bed was major step forward. I even got to stay in the wheelchair for a few hours and got a real meal, not that swill they serve the patients who can't forage for themselves. Chet says the food is really bad to subconsciously force you to get better faster so you don't have to eat it any more. Phil, ever the cynic, seems to think it is a vast conspiracy by the insurance companies so they don't have pay out as much for long stays. Tony just laughed and said it was better for him that the food sucks. He does a bang up delivery business as Mr Pizza is just a few blocks away. 

The guys have been stopping by every few days or so ever since I was allowed to have non family visit. It's helped. They, like my Dad, have not really altered anything about how they act around me. They have no idea how much that makes it easier to deal with. Or maybe they do and that's why they are doing it. I prefer to not dig too deep into their motives. I prefer instead to dig deep into Tony's Ultimate Supreme Deep Dish Pizza. Mmmmm pizza.

 

May 16th

omygawd I am bored. Every day its the same routine: wake up, get fed something that may or may not be an actual breakfast food. Sponge bath. Trip down to the PT room where Tracy does inhumane things to my legs and shoulder. Lunch which may or may not consist of anything edible or palatable. Daily visits by Doctors T and S. Dinner at least is usually provided by a variety of friends and family. You know it's bad when the peanut butter and jelly sandwich your brother brings you as a joke ends up being the most delicious thing you eat in 48 hours. I don't even like grape jelly....

 

May 17th

Dr. Taylor wants to spring me! Caveat.. I need to 'demonstrate a few things first'. Getting my butt from the bed into the chair? Done. Although for future reference it is easier to do if you lock the brakes first... take care of ..umm..personal hygiene issues? Yeap managed that too although we will be investing in a long shower hose. I hate baths. All that's left is to traverse the length of those damned parallel bars down in the PT room. Putting weight on both legs and standing upright unaided for at least a minute. Still working on that. 

May 23rd

Took me long enough, but I did it. It was easier to concentrate when nobody was watching. Would never ket Frank come to my PT sessions. Was hard enough trying to make my body do stuff it used to do without effort. Having his face there the whole time, either full of pity, or sympathy or worst of all, guilt, was just NOT conducive to me having the right mindset. Of course Dr Suitland seems to think I am being too independent and I need to let Frank and the rest of the family help. He tried to make me understand that I wasn't the only injured party here. That Frank carried a burden too, and my parents are worried about me. Last time I checked, I was the only one in the wheelchair so I fail to see any other 'injury' worthy of comment. Just because I don't want to deal with Big Brother's guilty conscience does not mean I let him off the hook just yet. I turned down his offer to move in with him, even though Mom and Dad will need to make major changes to the house and he lives on the first floor of his apartment building. Mom's the better cook. 

May 25th

Freeeeeeedom!!!!!!. Dad will by in about 2 hours to spring me from this wretched place. Says everything is ready at the house and I will be moving in to his office. He'll be taking over what used to be Aunt Gertrude's bedroom. Still have to see Dr. S twice a week but at least I will be dressed for the sessions from now on. And apparently Tracy makes house calls because she will be stopping by 3 times a week to continue torturing me. Oh, joy. Can't say I will miss this place, that's for sure. I know it's gonna be a long tough road. But at least I made it out alive this time.....


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting away from the diary format until the last chapter. You'll see why.

It had been three weeks since Joe had been released from the hospital. At first it had been glorious, home cooked meals, clothes that did not tie in the back and leave gaping holes in embarrassing places and a sense of being in the loop once again. He even looked forward to Tracy's thrice weekly visits. He soon graduated from being in the wheelchair full time to using a walker inside the house. Stairs were still problematic but once a day he laboriously made his way to the second floor and his father's temporary office. Fenton had dragooned him into being his researcher/secretary, and although paperwork made him retch, he was glad that he was still able to continue in some small way working. 

But the euphoria was short lived. Joe's natural state of being, that of whirling dervish, chafed at the enforced limitations he was faced with. Even Dr Taylor's cheerful prognosis of a full recovery was met with impatience. Joe had never been a patient person. He was born 3 weeks early and ever since then showed no signs of adjusting any time soon. He had gone straight to crawling. No hitching along or half accidental rolling over for him. He stood on his own at 8 am one morning and was trying to run by lunch time. Totally skipped the walking along the coffee table step that most babies took. 

It had always been a topic of conversation as the brothers grew up. Christmas morning began at 2 am for Joe. At least until his teen years. Then, the family was lucky if he deigned to put in an appearance before noon. But once he was up, he was constantly on the move. And now he couldn't do everything in half the time. Now it took twice as long. Joe's temper grew short and it took nothing to set him off. He was constantly bickering with his brother, and even his mother was not immune to occasional bitter words. Fenton was the only person he seemed to not get snippy with over nothing. 

In fact, Fenton often mused , somewhat incredulously, to Laura that he had never felt closer to his younger offspring. Laura had encouraged the new relationship while still gently reminding her husband to not neglect their elder son, who was still feeling the effects of his part in the recent tragedy. 

Joe groaned loudly and pushed himself away from the computer screen. Frank, who was there to update their father on some aspect of the most recent case, immediately rushed over and knelt down to look Joe in the eyes “Are you alright?! Are you in pain?! Can I do anything?!” it was all said in a rush and Joe had to fight the urge to slap his brother silly.

“No I am not all right. My eyes are crossing from the damn computer monitor. I have a headache from Googling all day. I still haven't traced the bank records and I have to pee!” Joe braced against the chair's arms and slowly forced his recalcitrant lower body to take his weight and stood up. Frank half reached towards Joe, but had his hands slapped away angrily. “I am quite capable of going potty by my self!” Joe grabbed a cane that he had taken to using for short distances after discovering it in the back of Aunt Gertrude's closet and made his way out into the hall. 

Frank turned anguished eyes on his father, who had observed the scene quietly. “What am I doing wrong?! He hates me!” he wailed. Fenton sighed and replied. “No, Frank he does not hate you. He hates his situation. There is a difference.” 

That didn't make Frank feel any better as he still held himself responsible for Joe's injury. “Nothing I say or do comes out right. I have tried apologizing but he keeps saying it doesn't matter.” Frank was at a loss. He wanted, nay needed, for things to be the way they used to be between he and his younger sibling. 

Fenton had an inkling of what Joe's problem was, but realized that Frank's need for absolution was not making it easy on the two young men and their relationship. “Why don't you follow those leads we discussed earlier. Let Joe set the tone for a while. If he doesn't want your help, don't offer it.” 

“Look, Son, I understand that you want him to say he forgives you. But you know as well as I do that it may take him time to work through this. Your pushing the issue just to assuage your feelings does not help. The ball is in his court and you need to be patient. He'll say the words when he is ready to, not before. Until then just respect his feelings on the subject, okay?” Fenton pleaded.

Frank reluctantly agreed and set off to do the legwork his father had suggested. Fenton returned to his own desk but found he could not concentrate on the task at hand either. So instead he waited for his younger son to slowly make his way back down the hall. 

As Joe entered the room, Fenton stood up and said “Why don't we take a break. I feel like lunch. You?” Joe laughed “When have I ever refused food?!” The older man chuckled in agreement and asked what he was in the mood for. 

“Well it's kind of chilly out. Grilled cheese and tomato soup?”

“With or without bacon?”

“Dumb question. With, of course!”

Fenton grinned and said “I'll get right on it.” Without asking, Fenton grabbed the walker but left the cane and proceeded downstairs, where he left the walker at the base of the steps and entered the kitchen. He busied himself with setting out the fry pan and tossing several slices of bacon in before grabbing the bread, butter, and cheese from the fridge and beginning the prep work.

In less time than Fenton had expected, Joe was shuffling into the kitchen himself. He silently marveled at his son's ability to bounce back from serious injury and was again grateful that he would make a full recovery, even if it did take longer than Joe was happy with. “Grab the soup out of the pantry, would you?” He asked as he flipped the bacon before draining it on paper towels. 

Joe did as he was told and soon had the can opened and dumped into the small sauce pan. He absently stirred in a can of milk and turned the heat on low before layering cheese and bacon on 2 buttered slices of bread and plopped them in the recently wiped out fry pan. Joe's burgeoning strength threatened to leave him at this point so he sat down and let his father finish the cooking.

The two men ate quietly, which was a departure from their usual routine. Ordinarily they'd continue discussing the case, or maybe make friendly wagers on the results of the weekend games. Fenton let the silence continue until both had finished their lunch. He got up, grabbed Joe's plate and bowl and placed them in the dishwasher along with his own. 

Joe stood up and headed back into the hall toward the stairs when Fenton stopped him and said “Work can wait. Why don't we have a seat in the living room?” Since Joe was in no way eager to return to the drudgery that is an internet search, he readily agreed. Plopping down rather dramatically on the couch he grabbed the remote and asked “ESPN or History Channel?”

Fenton reached over and gently took the remote away. He sat down, turned to face his son, and very softly, said “Tell me what's wrong.”

At first, Joe tried to feign ignorance. Then he played the 'nothing is the matter' card and that too was met with skepticism before he finally sighed deeply and put his head in his hands and sat there for a very long time. Fenton said nothing, only bringing an arm around his son's shoulders and pulling him in for an embrace. For once, Joe let the physical show of emotion pass without feigning disgust or pulling away. 

Eventually, though, he straightened up. Fenton ignored the unshed tears in sapphire blue eyes and merely said “Joseph?” in a questioning tone.

“He just doesn't get it, Dad!” Joe exploded. 

“Get what?” he asked, despite being pretty sure he knew the answer. 

“Every time he rushes to my side it just makes it worse. I don't want his pity and I sure as hell don't need his guilt. It's done, it is what it is. I just can't take all the self loathing any more. I have plenty of my own.”

“Joe, he feels responsible....” Fenton started only to be interrupted by an explosion of temper so much like the Joe of old he almost smiled.

“Arrrgh! That's just it. Despite my leaving for 5 years and learning to stand on my own two feet he never moved on. He doesn't see that I don't need him to babysit me any more. That I can handle myself and it was just bad luck that I got shot.” Joe wanted nothing more than to jump up and storm out in a lovely display of dramatic exit but had to settle for throwing himself back against the couch cushions in a huff. “I wasn't home 20 minutes after I got out of the Navy and he was hovering. It's like he went into stasis while I was away. And when I was in school? He had to call or text 30 times a day. I haven't had a moment's peace!”

Fenton sadly realized that his fears were confirmed. Joe had indeed grown up and became a capable young man, one he was exceedingly proud of. But Frank still saw him as the wayward little brother who needed constant looking after. He also knew it would only continue to fester until Joe had had enough and his infamous temper would explode; probably permanently damaging their relationship. One of the downsides of being so close in the first place, he thought. When it came to a head, Fenton was afraid his sons would end up never speaking to one another again. He was determined that would never happen.

Fenton sighed and leaned back in imitation of his son's earlier move. “You're right. Frank hasn't gotten used to the fact that you don't need him any more. It takes time.”

“Dad, I have been back for over a year. How much time does it take?!” Joe exclaimed, exasperated. 

“For the first 6 months or so after you left, Frank was completely at a loss. He literally had no idea what to do with himself without you around. He went through his first semester at NYU in a daze. I honestly think he had no idea who he was other than your older brother. His whole identity was tied up in that definition. When you came back I think he really expected to take that role up again seamlessly. And when you didn't let him, he was confused. He honestly thought you had stopped loving him.”

“And people call ME the idiot!” Joe half shouted. “whereinhell did he get such a harebrained idea?!”

“I don't know, Joe” Fenton shook his head. “I tried getting him to see the changes in you were a good thing and only minor adjustments were needed to your relationship. But I guess he just couldn't let go.”

“Oh I think I can persuade him to let go. I won't even use a two by four to administer the lesson. Is my baseball bat still in the garage?” Joe said grimly. Fenton chuckled at that but said nothing.  
Satisfied that Joe understood the problem and had the beginning of a solution, he declared the rest of the afternoon off and proclaimed a Mythbusters Marathon to be just the thing to kill an afternoon. Joe readily agreed, secretly glad that he was spared another agonizing torture session involving Swiss and Bahamian banking rules. 

Several hours went by with father and son enjoying each others' company. Laura had returned home and was asking the menfolk what they wanted for dinner when it became apparent that Frank had also returned.

“Franklin Paul Hardy get your butt in here right now!” Joe shouted towards the kitchen, his tone brooking absolutely no argument whatsoever and drawing a shocked stare from his mother. 

Frank came in, warily, and stopped just inside the entry way. 

“Dad, why don't you take Mom out to dinner tonight. Frank and I have some things to discuss.” Joe's voice was light, but the look in his eyes was hard. Fenton quickly steered his wife into the kitchen as he whispered into her ear “I'll explain later.” 

Frank was still standing awkwardly in the doorway when Joe pointed a finger at him and said “You. Sit.” and moved his arm to stab at the easy chair across from the couch. 

Frank did as he was told, but sat perched on the very edge of the chair, like he was getting ready to bolt at any second. “Joe, I...”

“Shut Up. I am talking. I will continue to talk and you will not say one damn word until I tell you otherwise. Understand?!” It was obvious that Joe was in no mood for jokes and any attempt to relieve the tension rapidly building in the room would result in violence. So Frank did the only sensible thing and nodded his head. 

“Good.” Joe picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey, Tony. I need 2 of your finest concoctions. Surprise me. No, delivery please. Thanks, pal.” and with that he hung up the phone and leaned in toward the dark haired man across from him, who shrank away at the movement with a gulp.

Joe smiled evilly, the hardness in his eyes only intensifying and for the first time in his life, Frank was afraid of what he saw in them.


	4. Chapter 4

The next 34 minutes were the absolute longest of Frank's life. Joe remained silent but glared every time Frank opened his mouth so after the third or fourth attempt, he resigned himself to waiting for the other shoe to drop. The only sounds that could be heard was the overloud ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, which seemed to keep eerie symphony with his own thudding heartbeat, and the low pitched murmurings of his parents in the kitchen. 

For his part, Joe was desperately formulating a plan of attack. He knew he needed to tread carefully to avoid alienating his brother permanently, but at the same time had to impress upon him the necessity of this looming intervention. For his own sanity, if nothing else.

The doorbell jingled discordantly, and Joe was pleased to note that Frank jumped a good 3 inches at the sound. He heard his Father open the door and greet the ringer. Scant moments later, Tony Prito ambled in with 2 large pizza boxes in his hands. He stopped short at the obvious tension in the room, but Joe airily waved him over and said “ Ahh, Mr. Prito you are a Prince among men. I am honored by such personal service. What do I owe you?” 

Tony swallowed the question on his lips and gave Joe the total. Joe whipped out his wallet, peeled off the requisite number of bills and magnanimously proclaimed that Tony could keep the change. Tony hesitated, but once he saw Frank's minute shake of the head, he said his goodbyes and left the room. He had the uneasy feeling that something big was about to happen and he felt sorry for Frank although he was damned if he knew why. 

Laura came into the room, bearing paper plates and two bottles of beer. As she placed them on the table in front of Joe, she leaned over and whispered to him “Don't be too hard on your brother dear.” 

In response Joe pecked her on the cheek and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. Laura turned sympathetic eyes on her dark haired son but said nothing. Moments later the kitchen door banged shut and the sound of Fenton's car pulling out of the driveway hammered home to Frank that he was truly alone. Again, he gulped nervously.

Joe opened the top box, slid 2 slices out onto a plate and slid it across the table closer to his brother. He followed the pizza with a nudge of a beer bottle before supplying his own plate with three slices and twisting off the cap of his own bottle. Frank hesitated, but reached over and pulled the plate into his lap and took a small bite. As usual, the pizza was excellent and still hot. The cheese burned the roof of his mouth but he felt nothing.

Joe was halfway through his second slice before he spoke. “How old am I, Frank?” he inquired mildly.

Frank was stunned. This was not what he expected at all. He had mentally braced himself for a thorough..and loud.. tongue lashing. He stammered a reply “uhhh. 25. Almost 26.” 

“And would you say that qualifies me as an adult?” still mildly, but with a dangerous undercurrent. Frank knew he was treading on thin ice here. “uhh, yes?”

“So would you care to explain to me why you have continued to treat me as if I am still a 17 year old screw up that needs 24/7 supervision? Or alternately, a fragile egg that needs constant protection?” this time the voice was steely as Joe leaned forward, his eyes penetrating into Frank's soul. 

Frank vehemently denied any such thing. “ Don't be stupid. I have done no such thing!”

“Oh really?!” Joe's voice was low, and he raised one eyebrow in sardonic skepticism. “Then explain why you wormed your way into every facet of my life ever since I came home.” Again, Frank tried to justify himself, but was silenced by an upraised finger. “I came home and you insisted I move in with you. Which I didn't mind doing at first despite your atrocious taste in décor.” Joe was referring to a truly hideous paisley print couch and recliner that Frank had scrounged from some Thrift store. Not even throw pillows and a large blanket could hide the awfulness. “But then you always had to know what I was doing, who I was hanging out with. What I was going to do with my life.” 

Frank tried to explain. “I missed having you around , I wanted to be a part of your life again.” 

“No. You wanted to control it. You had to push college and it couldn't be any college it had to be local. You may not have realized it at the time but you seriously guilted me into attending NYU. I went along partly because it was easier than trying to fight you on the issue and partly because I missed you too. I didn't want to run the risk of another falling out. I like having you around. Usually.” Joe stopped and took a swig of beer.

Frank ruminated over what his brother had said, and found he couldn't entirely disagree. 

Joe continued. “And even though you had graduated already and was working for dad full time you were constantly harping on me about my classes, telling me which professors to avoid and which ones I had to take.”

Frank protested yet again “I just wanted to make sure you had the best chance if succeeding and not have to suffer through the same stuff I did!” 

Joe started to lose his cool a tad. “ Bro, I didn't major in Criminalistics. Didn't need your advice. Also, I had plenty of experience with idiotic instructors. The Navy is not immune from less than stellar personalities and teaching styles. Plus.. it was MY responsibility to pass or fail on my own merits. NOT.Yours.” this last was said with a growl that took Frank aback a smidgen. “And once I graduated? Dad offered me a job, and I gladly accepted. All I ever wanted to was to be a Detective and work with you. BOTH of you. And I knew I needed to earn my place in the family biz. I knew I was gonna start off with the scut work and the lousy details. Just like the Navy and Messcranking.” Joe gave a small involuntary shudder at that memory. To this day he still would not eat scrambled eggs. Too many nightmares revolving around bags of yellowish powdery dust. “Then Dad started giving me some bigger responsibilities, letting me do some surveillance work. And you always invited yourself to tag along.”

“and yeah I let you. The company was welcome even if you have no appreciation of proper stakeout etiquette and would never let me eat in the car. But I started to think maybe you didn't trust me to do the job alone.” Frank was shocked at these words and denied the allegation “Of course I trusted you!”

“Then why didn't you let me sink or swim on my own? Always you were there backing me up. How often were you alone on the job? No Dad or Sam close by in case things went to hell in a hand basket?” Joe's voice grew resentful now and took on a bitterness that broke Frank's heart at hearing.

“But you know what's the absolute worst, Frank? The coddling. The babying. I am not helpless. Just..temporarily damaged. But you act as if I am going to shatter into a million pieces any second. It's annoying as hell. It's like you want me to stay broken so you can make yourself feel better by playing Nursemaid. Trust me, you would look lousy in a Nurse's uniform. You haven't got the legs for it.”

“But it was my fault you got hurt!” Frank still wouldn't let go of that bone and finally Joe snapped, despite his best intentions.

“Dammit would you quit throwing yourself on your sword! Yes. I got shot. Three times. It hurt. And if you were nowhere around that night It.Still.Would.Have.Gone.Down.The.Same.Way.” to emphasize the point Joe leaned very far forward and threw the now empty beer bottle as hard as he could at the fireplace to Frank's left. It shattered and left a smear of beer dribble down the fireplace screen.

Frank sat there in stunned silence as Joe repeated. “I got shot. You did not pull the trigger. Nor did you make Mr Gangbanger pull the trigger. You ensured that the couple got away safely without fear of being chased. You did your job as a Public Servant. You do not have one damn thing to feel guilty over. If anything you probably saved me from bleeding out and dieing in that alley. So I will NOT have you wailing and gnashing your teeth over my predicament.”

Joe leaned back, admitting privately to himself that he was tired and his chest had begun to hurt. But he was bound and determined to finish having it out with his pigheaded brother. “I am going to make a full recovery. It may not happen this month.. or next..and it sure as hell is taking a damn sight longer than I want it to, But I will walk again without the cane so you can just quit with the whole guilt ridden angsty bit. Because once I AM cleared for field duty again, that damn computer is all yours again and you can bloody well do all the research on obscure banking laws.”

“6 years ago Dad opened my eyes to some harsh truths. Now it is your turn. I am no longer the trouble magnet, doomed to be kidnapped every other week in between getting beat up by lowlifes. I don't need a babysitter any more Frank. Nor do I need a protector. I just need a Brother. That's it. Nothing fancy, or terribly complicated. Just..be my friend. Okay?” Joe's voice cracked a little but both men ignored it. 

Frank wanted absolutely nothing more than to rush over to his brother's side and envelop him into a bone crushing hug and apologize profusely. He was, however, smart enough to realize that that would not go over well. “Well, it appears as if I have some old habits I need to break.” he said with a wan smile, in an attempt to diffuse the heavy duty emotion in the air. Joe gave a half laugh that threatened to become a sob if he wasn't careful.

The impending emotional outburst was avoided by the distraction of their parents returning home from dinner. Fenton came into the room ahead of his wife and took note that both men sported no new bruises or bloodstains. He then noticed the furniture seemed intact, a fact he was grateful for as he had no desire to listen to Laura gripe about replacing end tables. But then his glance fell upon the shattered beer bottle in the back of the room. His eyebrow rose so high it disappeared beneath his greying hair. Joe had the grace to blush as he apologized. Fenton merely sighed and said something the effect of 'better beer bottles than brothers' and went to get the broom and dustpan. 

Frank stood up and said “It's late, I should go.” Joe just nodded as a huge yawn threatened to split his head in half. “Be back here by 9” Fenton said. “ I want to go over a few things with you on the Omalley case before I have to be in court.” Frank nodded. He half bent down towards his brother, but stopped himself and instead just placed a hand on Joe's good shoulder. Joe silently reached up and gave it a squeeze but never spoke. 

Laura was busy making coffee in the kitchen when Frank came in. She asked “Is everything all right, dear?” Frank shook his head but said “It will be. I just have some thinking to do is all.” Laura reached up and hugged her eldest tightly and whispered into his ear “He still loves you even if he is mad at you right now.” Frank's eyes grew misty but he refused to succumb. “I know Mom. But I think he may have a good reason to be ticked at me.” with a quick kiss on his mother's cheek, Frank disappeared into the night. 

Meanwhile, Fenton had finished cleaning up the mess Joe had made. Joe thanked him and tried standing up but fell back down as his legs collapsed under him. He had overdone it that day, mentally and physically and now he was paying the price. “Dad?” he asked in a small voice. Fenton needed no other words and he swiftly came to his son's side and helped him up as well as held him steady until he could take all the weight himself. “Thanks” Joe said quietly. Fenton helped him into the office/bedroom and assisted his youngest into Pjs. Joe was subdued, showing none of the earlier fire and brimstone he had inflicted upon his brother. 

As Fenton tuned to leave, Joe's voice rang out. “Dad? What if I hurt him too much?”

Fenton turned, his heart aching at the forlorn sound of his youngest. “Son, he'll always love you, just as you will always love him. But you gave him some pretty heavy things to mull over, just like I did you all those years ago. Give it some time. He's been playing the role of overprotective big brother for over 20 years. Not an easy habit to break.” 

Joe nodded, then sank back on the pillows. His sleep would be restless this night. 

Fenton came padding quietly out to the kitchen and smiled at his wife as she handed him a cup of coffee. “Honey, let him sleep in tomorrow. There's nothing really urgent that needs doing and I will be in court most of the day. He needs the rest.” Laura nodded “Will they be okay?” she wondered.

“Yes. It may take a while as each of them adjusts their attitudes but they are too close to let anything really ruin their relationship. They'll be fine.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankie's just a wee bit peeved.....

Frank spent a tumultuous night reliving the one way conversation he and Joe had shared and by the time morning dawned he had worked himself into a lather and was downright angry. His ungrateful brat of a brother! How dare he speak to him in such a manner. By the time he returned to the house just before 9, he was ready to explode and had every intention of giving his brother what for. 

However, when he walked into the kitchen, only his parents were seated there enjoying a leisurely breakfast. Fenton immediately realized that Frank was in a state and tried to head him off at the pass. “Good, you are right on time. Let's go up to my office and discuss what I want you to do the next couple of days while I am testifying.” He didn't even give Frank a chance to hunt down his sibling. He steered his eldest upstairs, adroitly avoiding Franks rather pointed questions regarding Joe's whereabouts. Instead he kept Frank occupied by giving him some explicit instructions that would hopefully keep him out of his brother's way for a few days. Frank simmered, but was willing to let his anger fester a few days and really have a proper blow up when he finally did speak to his brother.

He was soon on his way, armed with a self righteous indignation that would keep him company throughout the next several days while he tracked down a few leads on what Mr Omalley might be getting up to. 

As Fenton kissed his wife goodbye he reminded her to let their youngest sleep all day if he wanted. “Not all day, dear, he has an appointment with his torturer at 1.” Laura grinned at her son's description of the physical therapist. Fenton chuckled at that and amended his earlier orders. “Fine. Noon then.” He kissed his wife goodbye and went off to court, armed with various and sundry documents and pictures to bolster the DA's case against a minor crook. 

Laura needn't have worried about waking her youngest. Joe ambled out into the living room just before 1130. “Why didn't anyone get me up?!” he grumbled. Laura just smiled at him and said “We all got tired of tilting at that windmill, dear. You can only have so many pillows thrown at you before you get the hint.” She rose gracefully out of her chair and kissed his cheek, pausing to cup it in her hand for a moment. He smiled at her, but it was a wan one. “What would you like for lunch dear? I can get that started while you shower and get ready for Tracy.” 

“Do we have any tomatoes?” he asked. “I'd love a BLT.” Laura confirmed the presence of some lovely specimens of beefsteak varietal and excused herself to the kitchen to begin prep work. “One sandwich or two, dear?” even though she already knew she'd end up making 4 and she'd only get one. One thing that had not changed was Joe's appetite. 

Joe trudged back into the office/bedroom. Fenton had long ago installed a shower stall in the bathroom attached to his office, stating he had no desire to disturb his family while he was keeping odd hours. At the time, a 7 year old Joe had thought it was stupid. Who wanted to get clean anyway; you were only going to get dirty all over again the next day. But the nearly 26 year old with physical limitations was grateful he didn't have to drag his butt all the way upstairs. He was still soaking under the steaming hot spray when his mother knocked on the door informing him lunch was ready. He hastily finished shampooing and rinsing and stepped out of the stall, wrapping an oversized towel around his waist. He stood for a long time staring in the mirror at the long red ugly scar that dissected his chest. Open heart surgery was not a delicate matter and the surgeons apparently had never heard of the term neatness counts, as the stitches left ragged edges that pulled every time he stretched the wrong way. Joe was vain enough to admit that he was bothered by the scar, despite being assured it would fade in time. Sighing loudly, he grabbed his electric razor and gave his face a quick once over before tossing on a tee shirt and a pair of flannel lounge pants.

He walked out into the kitchen using only the cane although he did go slow. He laughed out loud at the sight of 4 sandwiches on the serving platter. “You know me so well, Mom!” Laura smiled back at him and asked what he wanted to drink. “Water's fine. Need to get hydrated. Tracy is always griping I don't drink enough water.” 

Joe quickly demolished his three sandwiches and 2 tall glasses of ice cold water. He had just finished tossing the dirty dishes into the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. Laura was at the door in moments and welcomed the physical therapist with a smile. “He'll join you in the living room shortly.”

Tracy nodded her acknowledgement and proceeded into the living room where she began rearranging furniture to create a large open space in the middle of the room, where she tossed a yoga mat. Joe soon made his way in and greeted his 'torturer'. In truth, he was quite grateful of her expertise and knew she was directly responsible for his recovery being as fast as it was. She had no compunction about pushing Joe past his self perceived limits and he was willing to let her. It was a nice symbiotic partnership that had enabled him to defy even his normally optimistic doctor's predictions of a quick recovery. Even if 'quick' meant close to a year in his case. 

The next 90 minutes saw Joe being poked, prodded, stretched and twisted to within an inch of his life. Laura cringed several times at his explosive “Sonuvabitch” es when there was a particularly painful moment. At the end of the session, Joe was shaking and looked exhausted. Tracy packed up her things and refused Laura's offer of refreshments, as she always did. She said goodbye to both of them, and giving Joe a last bit of encouragement was on her way until next time. 

When Laura asked what his plan's were for the rest of the afternoon, he replied “ I have my own windmills to tilt at. Still need to track down those bank transactions for Dad. I'll be upstairs trying very hard to not throw the computer out the window.”

Joe hauled his twice as sore as it was 2 hours ago body up the stairs. He decided to procrastinate just a little and took another shower, this time to wash the sweat off and let the heat soothe his poor mistreated shoulder and thighs. But all too soon he was in front of the computer and with a dramatic sigh that no one heard, began typing away furiously. He had no idea how long he had been plugging away but jumped at his mother's soft touch on his shoulder. Laura placed a plate of still warm oatmeal scotchies on the desk and handed her son a tall glass of ice cold milk. “Time for a break, don't you think?”

“Mom, you are the best Mother in the history of the universe. What have I done to deserve you?” 

“ It's what you will do. You are in charge of dinner.” 

“I am?!”

“Yes. I have some steaks marinating and you will be grilling tonight. I'll cover the salad but the other sides are your responsibility too. Your Father just called and he thinks he should be done about 6 so plan dinner for 7 ish. It's almost 5 now.” Joe heartily agreed to play Chef and as soon as he had eaten the cookies came downstairs to raid the fridge for suitable vegetable accompaniments. He settled on roast asparagus with lemon pepper and simple baked potatoes. He was happily puttering around the kitchen when his father arrived home, looking tired but satisfied. 

“I take it things went well?” Joe asked. “Very” his father replied. The DA has a nice tight case. We expect the Defense to offer a plea bargain in the morning. The DA will probably accept.” 

“Well that's great news! At least you won't be tied up with endless cross examining that way.” 

Fenton nodded in agreement. “Thank goodness for small favors. Want a drink?” as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. Joe accepted the offer and asked his father to go turn the grill on and pre heat. The next few minutes were spent with Father and son discussing Joe's inability to find evidence tying their suspect to the money laundering case that Fenton had been hired to investigate a few weeks earlier. “I don't know if it is because I can't do the research as well as Frank can, or the guy is just that good, or if he's innocent!” Joe was frustrated at his inability to produce results for his father.

Fenton replied “I have the utmost confidence in your interweb snooping skills. So lets assume it is one of the other two options and go from there. Frank should be wrapping up the Omalley case in the next day or so so I can send him to do some pavement pounding on this case.” 

At the mention of Frank's name, Joe grew even more pensive. His quiet mood continued through dinner and the after dinner clean up. So once again, Fenton found himself on the couch next to his son asking what was wrong. 

Joe had a hard time articulating his unease. “I guess I am second guessing myself a little. I mean I meant what I said last night, but what if he doesn't want to let go? In some ways he's been more of a Father than...” Joe stopped speaking, looking slightly ashamed and more than a little guilty at what almost came out of his mouth “I..I didn't mean...” he stammered but was silenced by Fenton raising his hand with a smile. “You have nothing to apologize for. You are right, Joe. In many ways Frank raised you. And that is my fault, not yours. Nor is it Frank's fault that he was forced to assume that role, so you cannot hold it against him.” Fenton continued “This has been eye opening for all of us, I think. And each of us is going to adjust differently. Old habits die hard. Or is that Hardy?!” he slyly asked, eliciting a groan from Laura, who was seated across the room with a book in her hands and a glass of wine by her side. 

That produced a pair of identical chuckles from the men and the rest of the evening was spent fighting over the remote. Joe decided to call it an early night despite having slept in. his stamina was still on the low side and his sessions with Tracy were always exhausting and a little depressing as he failed to progress as quickly as he wanted. He deeply empathized with Wesley and his unwillingness to get all excited over a little head jiggle when he had a castle to storm. Intellectually, he know that he was recovering very fast, and that pushing himself too hard would only result in his recovery being hampered, or regressing. But he was still Joe Hardy, and that meant patience was not a strong suit....


	6. Chapter 6

Frank returned after two days with news on the case his father had sent him out on, and a slow simmering resentment of his brother that threatened to explode into harsh and angry words the minute he laid eyes on his blond bothersome brat of a brother. But yet again he was denied his opportunity as Joe was not awake when he arrived at his boyhood home just after 8 in the morning. He was about to go storming into Joe's temporary bedroom when Fenton came into the kitchen and co opted his eldest, requesting an immediate update on the Omalley case. As always, duty won out over personal desires so he followed his father upstairs into the temporary office, where he sat down and began by saying “Dad, we can wrap this up. Mrs Omalley has nothing to worry about. Except maybe some sore feet...”

Fenton was nonplussed until Frank continued his tale. “ Oh, sure the guy is seeing another woman.. a dance instructor. I overheard him talking to another student. He's there to learn to country line dancing believe it or not. Seems Mrs Omalley is a Texan and they are going to a family reunion in a few weeks. He's never met her extended family and he wants to make a good impression.” Frank shook his head, amused at the revelation despite still being mad as hell at You Know Who. “ I think it would ruin the surprise if we told her the whole truth. Can't we just assure he's not cheating or doing anything illegal or immoral and ask her to wait until he comes clean?” Fenton agreed that was probably an acceptable compromise.

Frank had stood up and was about to go down stairs, fully intent on bodily harm when Fenton stopped him from leaving. “Frank, shut the door and sit back down. We need to talk.” Frank, however was not interested in getting a new case or having any other conversations besides the one sided one he fully intended to have downstairs. And Joe could listen without benefit of coffee. “Dad I really need to talk to Joe about something.”

“Not until you hear what I have to say first.” Fenton firmly replied. Frank recognized the tone, and the look, so resigned himself to postponing his revenge for a little while longer.

Fenton took off his glasses and studiously began wiping them with the edge of his sweater as he decided how best to open the conversation. “Frank, your brother..” but Frank never let him finish as he angrily stood up and began stalking towards the door.

“Dad it's between me and him, you don't have to get involved.” he growled. “He stepped over the line the other night and I am not going to let him get away with it!”

“Frank, sit down!” Fenton was not going to let his eldest leave without having heard what he had to say. “Your brother is right.”

Frank was incensed at his father's words “You have no idea what he said to me!” 

“Actually I have a pretty good idea and I understand why you are feeling the way you do but hear me out before you go off and do something unbelievably stupid and shortsighted.” Frank glowered but did as his father requested and sat back down, legs crossed, and arms folded defiantly across his chest. 

“Frank, I owe you an apology.” 

Umm, okay. Frank failed to see how his problem with Joe was in any way their father's fault, and said as much.

“No, it is my fault, or at least partially. I never intended to fail as a parent and I certainly never wanted you to pick up the slack from my shortcomings.” Fenton sighed as he continued. “You were always so self sufficient and content to be alone, quietly doing whatever kept you entertained. You didn't need constant supervision. When your brother came along and he was such the polar opposite of you neither your mother or I had a clue what to do.” 

“Dad, you were a great parent.” Frank exclaimed.

“Maybe, but not consistently and not when it counted most. How many times was I not around? You were Joe's Father Figure growing up. Not me. And it pains me to admit this but you did a great job of it. But it's time to let go of that. He doesn't need a parent any more Frank. But he does need his brother. He wants his brother.” Fenton paused. “Want to know why we have been getting along so well since he came back? It's because we treat each other like adults. Maybe we can do so easily since we never had the typical father /son relationship. But I don't coddle him, I don't expect him to screw up or get into hot water every time he leaves the house. You..do..and maybe 6 or 7 years ago he did. But he did a lot of growing up and maturing while he was gone. Why can't you see that?” Fenton asked his eldest son.

Frank was beginning to get angry at his father too. “What makes you say that?!” he cried out furiously. 

“Because I see it every time you are in the room together. You never let him have a moment's peace, or fail at anything. Even something as simple as walking from this office to the bathroom. Yes he is stubborn but that doesn't mean he won't ask for help if he needs it. Just let him decide whether or not he does, okay? Hovering over him trying to anticipate his every need will not endear him to you, nor will it help. By all means, be there when he does, I would not have it any other way, but please, for the sake of your relationship, let him take the lead for a while. Let him grow up.” Fenton said this last bit very softly as he gazed into his son's dark brown eyes so much like his own. 

Frank's anger began to subside, but he was not quite ready to let go of all the hurt feelings. “ Anything I have said or done was because I love him, Dad!”

“And he knows that, Frank. He always followed your footsteps, eager to mimic you in everything. It's time to let him make his own tracks in the sand. Let him walk beside you, not behind you.” Fenton pleaded with his son, mentally begging him to understand what he was trying to say. 

Frank started to protest, but abruptly shut his mouth with a click. He had some more thinking to do. 

“Dad, I just don't know what I would do if I really lost him, permanently, I mean.” That admission cost Frank dearly and tears welled up into his eyes. Truth be told he had been lost without Joe when his brother had left and that dependence on his younger sibling scared him. It was as if he had no other purpose in life but that of Joe's Big Brother.

Fenton stood up and came around the desk, crouching down in front of Frank. “I know. I remember how you were when Joe enlisted. So this is as much for your benefit as his. You need to step outside that limiting role you have shoehorned yourself into. You are too young to have so much responsibility. You were always too young and I am sorry that you felt you had to take on so much of my role when I didn't.” By now father and son were both misty eyed. 

Being Hardys, the moment lasted exactly that.. a moment. Fenton straightened up, wincing as his knees popped. “I may be too young, but it sounds like you are too old” Frank quipped, earning a half hearted backhanded slap from his father. 

“Not too too old. I can still hold my own, young man!”

Frank laughed and said “Fine. I don't suppose I could beg breakfast?” 

“Like your mother would ever let you starve.” 

Father and son followed each other down stairs and into the kitchen was a still half asleep Joe was nursing a cup of coffee and mumbling incoherent one word answers to his mother's chipper conversation. Laura accepted a quick “Good morning, Mom” kiss from Frank then handed him his own coffee and asking all her menfolk want they wanted for breakfast.

After some lighthearted banter, it was universally decided that pancakes would not be remiss so Laura set about whipping up a batch of hotcakes in no time. She basked in the warm glow of her family intact, relishing the fact that nobody was hurt or kidnapped or about to jump headlong into danger. These moments were rare so she treasured them all the more. 

Everyone ate heartily, Fenton surprising even Laura by having seconds. Soon, though , the dishes were empty, mere trails of maple syrup the only evidence of breakfast left. Fenton wisely shooed Laura out of the kitchen, claiming that the boys could clean up.

And clean up they did, although the conversation was limited to “Pass me the towel, I'll dry” Eventually, though all the dishes were put away.

“Got any plans for today?” Frank asked.

“Not really. I thought maybe I would go down to the gym and use their indoor pool. Stacy says it will help rebuild muscle without putting to much of a strain on my legs.”  
“Want some company? I haven't hit the gym in over a week myself. I hear they have some new circuit machines. Wouldn't mind trying them out.” Frank hoped that was an obvious enough attempt to reassure Joe he wasn't going to horn in on his swimming plans.

Joe, for his part said “Sure. But I drive. Just got cleared to do so yesterday.” It was a half challenge to his brother. Normally, Frank drove whenever they went out together, but he was wise enough to not push the issue especially with his father's words still resonating in his head. So in response all he did was pull out his keys and toss them at his brother saying “You put a scratch on her and you will be washing her all summer!” 

By mid afternoon, both men were tired, but in a good way. Joe found that swimming was a great way to get both his legs and his shoulder moving and when he needed to he could rest in the water without feeling weighted down. Frank thoroughly enjoyed the new machines and got some tips from one of the in house Personal trainers. As they each changed got dressed after their showers, Frank asked Joe “Lunch? I'm buying.” 

Joe of course never turned down food, especially free food. They decided to try a new burger joint that opened up recently. The menu was rather puny, Joe thought, but was flabbergasted at what he was handed after placing his order. “Holee crap! This is one order of fries?! No wonder they call this place Five Guys. You can feed five people with this thing!” His burger had to be 6 inches high. one bite and he was hooked. “Umm Frank.. I may have died and gone to heaven. D'you think Tony would disown us if we ate here instead of Mr Pizza all the time?!”

Frank, for his part was too busy stuffing his mouth to answer. Eventually, though, the double mountain of french fried goodness soaking the paper bags they were served in was reduced to a pitiful straggle and even Joe had to proclaim himself stuffed to the gills. Frank grabbed their trays as Joe worked his way to a standing position and leaned heavily on the cane to get out of the restaurant. 

On the drive home Frank was looking for a way to broach the subject of their conversation a few nights earlier. “Joe, I did some thinking about what you said. And I will admit I was pissed at you. But Dad and I had a heart to heart. He, uhh, knocked some sense into me.” 

Joe just looked at him. “Yeah he does that sometimes” he was referring to his own heart to heart that had occurred many years prior. 

“Well, I think maybe you had a point. And I am sorry that it took Dad to make me see that. I should have seen it on my own.. without you or him whacking me over the head with a clue by four.”

“Actually, I was planning on using a baseball bat.” Joe smirked as he glanced over to the passenger side.

“Hah hah very funny.” but Frank was smiling as he said it. 

The rest of the ride passed swiftly. As Joe pulled into the driveway he asked” you staying for dinner?” 

“After eating half a cow and an acre of potatoes?! Are you insane?! I won't be hungry again until Tuesday!” Frank gasped incredulously. “Besides, I have to tell Mrs Omalley the good news.” he briefly explained his discovery the day before. Joe was amused. “Well don't ruin the surprise!” he said good night to his brother and walked into the kitchen.

“Everything okay, dear?” Laura asked.

“Actually, Mom, everything is great. Everything is just great!” he grinned and grabbed her into a big bear hug. “I gotta go tell Dad something. Oh, uhh Frank and I ate a pretty big lunch so just something light for me at dinner.” Laura Hardy was more astonished at that admission than the impromptu hug she had just received. 

“For what, Son?”

“For making it count. He gets it now. And it's all because of what you told him. So thanks.” and Joe was gone.

Fenton Hardy let the tears fall as he realized that he had finally done his job as a parent. Everything that had come before was worth the sacrifice and the pain. His sons were now who they were meant to be.. brothers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter and back to the diary format.

November 22nd

Dear Diary: didya miss me? I realize that it's been a while.. over 6 months in fact, but I am sure you will remember the only reason I wrote in your pages was because I was forced to. Nothing personal, you understand, but pouring out my innermost feelings was never my thing. Besides, journals are for girls, right? I mean Iola had one. Several actually, from the time she was about 10 or so. How do I know this, you ask? Well it's simple really. They are all in a box in my closet. Mrs M called me over to the farm one afternoon a couple of months after the funeral. She handed me a big box of Iola's things, including her journals. Said she wanted me to have the things that meant the most to her daughter. How do you respond to that?! I haven't looked at em. Seems a violation of sorts. But some days, it's hard to resist the temptation to be close to her again. 

Okay, enough of the maudlin crap. Dr Suitland called out of the blue the other day. Said he wanted to see how I was doing. Asked if I had kept up with the writing. I considered telling a little white lie but something stopped me. Prolly because he reminds me of Dad sometimes. Never could fool Dad. I can still occasionally get away with putting one past Frank. Anywho, once I admitted my failure to continue with that aspect of my therapy, he asked about the other stuff. Well, I ditched the cane about 2 months ago but still not doing heavy field work. Just light stuff, like knocking on doors and the like. 

Don't mind it too much cuz Dad was pretty cool about the whole thing. He makes sure I go out alone, without a babysitter. He has come up with some really creative ways to keep Frank out of my way. 

Frank..Frank.. what do I say about my brother? I honestly really thought he had turned over a new leaf. Boy was I ever wrong. Oh sure at first he was cool. Less with the hovering and junk. But as I grew stronger he started up again with the pressure. Kept bugging me to move back in with him. It got really bad and even Mom had to tell him to back off once or twice. She gave this big shpiel about how she wasn't ready to let me go just yet and that she missed cooking for such a hearty appetite yada yada yada. But after one such conversation I caught her looking at me. She winked. My mother, stretcher of the truth. She later confided that she didn't mind leftovers once in a while since that gave her a day off from the kitchen. So I stopped having thirds at dinner....

But he wouldn't let go. Worse than a dog with a bone, I swear. I was rapidly approaching violent eruption( yeah I admit it, I have a temper. As if you didn't know. Pppbbbtht. ) Once again Dad saved the day. Although I am not entirely certain he didn't get the idea from Mom in the first place. 

In a fit of absolute genius/deviousness, Dad declared that he was renting office space downtown. Said he had too much work and needed the extra space so that Sam could finally have his own desk. But the kicker? It came with an apartment upstairs! Oh but that ain't the best bit. You are gonna love this.

Dad decided he wanted a full time presence in the building, you know just because of all the sensitive information he kept in the safe and his desk. So he gave me the keys to the apartment. The ONE bedroom apartment. As is no room for big brothers to move in. I think I swooned. I spent 5 years in the Navy. That means I had 35 roommates. We slept 3 high in racks that were not even twin sized. I had a 6 inch clearance above my head. At least half snored. Loudly. An entire apartment all to myself? Oh hell yes. 

I knew Frank never really meant what he had said about backing off when I heard him argue with Dad for a solid hour. I suppose I should be flattered he gives such a damn, but I ain't. I am pissed. and hurt. Hurt that he really doesn't trust me. Dad keeps trying to get him to back off, always sending him out with Sam on 2 man jobs. Gives me the freedom to screw up. And screw up I have. I have lost people I was supposed to be tailing. I have gotten caught red handed trying to jimmy a lock. All stuff that Dad has confided in me that Frank was guilty of as well when he first started. Apparently that gives him license to dictate to me how I should do stuff under the guise of 'don't make the same mistakes I did'. Yeah, right. I don't think so. Homey don't play that.

Drives me absolutely batty. But he's Frank My big brother, the guy who checked under the bed for monsters when I was four. The one who risked death and dismemberment to pull me from a burning building. He who held my hand in the middle of the night as I detoxed off of Morphine. Sometimes I think maybe this is all my fault. I took too long to grow up and flee the nest. Now he's old and set in his ways and can't change. 

Oh hell, I'm maudlin again aren't I . And I need to put on a smile and play nice. Mom outdid herself for Thanksgiving this year. 26 pound bird. Ten pounds of potatoes. 2 pans of stuffing. She could feed the neighborhood. Oh wait, she is. The entire gang is coming over. Hell, even Phil is in town with his new fiance and has promised to bring her over to meet us. If she doesn't run screaming into the night after 20 minutes with all of us in the same room together, she's very brave. Either that or he forewarned her....

Gotta go, I am swinging by the store to pick up the beer on my way. 

November 23rd

Me again. I know; 2 days in a row. Iola would be so proud. Dr S would probably faint from the shock. Survived Thanksgiving. Did come close to decking Frank twice, but Mom distracted me once and Chet the second time. I am glad we stayed close, even after..well, you know. He could have easily blamed me and hated me for the rest of our lives but he doesn't, and for that I am forever grateful. Oh, and I owe some credit to Phil, who kept Frank distracted talking shop instead of trying to make pointed comments in my general direction. A guy couldn't ask for a better set of close friends. 

Yeah I know it's coming from a place of love. But what's that saying? “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours.” and the corollary..” If it doesn't, hunt it down and browbeat it into submission?” or something like that. I have seen posters. It's just so damn frustrating that I can't get through to him. Or maybe I am and he's choosing to disregard it anyway. In my next life I either want all sisters, or to be an only child. I'll name the dog Frank. 

December 17th

Okay first off, Winter sucks. Think my blood thinned in Yokosuka. Never gets much below freezing there and it hardly ever snows. Plus all those cruises to places like Thailand and white sandy beaches....oh yeah baby. But Bayport? Yoikes. Snowdrifts four feet high. Temps in single digits. Windchill factor below zero. But there is a silver lining. Storms have been so bad the last few days that Frank can't get into the office. Bonus no tension so thick you can cut it with a dull butter knife. My commute? About as long as it takes to run down 2 flights of stairs. In fact more than once I have forgotten to put shoes on and have shown up for work in slippers. Oops. 

Not like we are swamped with cases anyway. Too cold even for the bad guys. So cold in fact that Mom has been laying on the hints pretty thick. Apparently I owe her for having to cut her vacation to Hawai'i short back in April. Yes, Mom I deliberately stepped in front of a gun and let myself get shot three times( it hurt) just to ruin your luau aspirations. Dad is even ganging up on me! Such a betrayal cuts me to the quick. Until Sam fessed up. Dad is going to come too but he is leaving Frank in charge. Officially it is because he wants Frank to get some experience in the running of the whole business. But Sam privately told me that was only half the reason. He doesn't want Frank inviting himself along under the pretext of a family vacation. According to Sam, there have been multiple 'conversations' between my father and my brother about me. Even Dad is reaching the end of his rope. Unfortunately Sam is nothing if not loyal and he refuses to give me any details. Brat. Hmm. Wonder if I can still fit into my bathing suit......

December 28th

Wow. Christmas in Hawai'i. Palm trees decked out with tinsel. Very surreal. All that griping Mom did about wanting me to show her around? Funny how she and dad disappeared and I hardly ever saw them except at dinner. And half the time they skipped that too. I swear if I end up with a little sister in 9 months heads will roll. Frank was actually tolerable. Only one text a day and the three calls he did make were directly work related. I am impressed. Maybe he can be trained after all....

April 17th

Wow. What a difference a year makes. My name is Joe Hardy and one year ago today I got shot. Three times. It hurt. The scar on my chest from the open heart surgery is almost sexy. My shoulder still aches when it rains, but I can still pitch a mean fast ball. Can't even see the one from my abdomen really. There was no trial. The shooter sang like a canary and offered up names and places and dates and enough evidence to bring down one of the more violent gangs in the tri state area. I was initially peeved, having lost damn near a a year of my life because of that lowlife, but Dad told me that giving him a lighter sentence more than made up for the end of the gang as a credible threat. So I didn't have to testify, and he got charged with assault with a deadly weapon, which he pleaded guilty to and went away for 5 years. All in all, a win for the Good Guys.

Frank..oh I dunno. I can tell he's trying.. really hard. In fact I swear sometimes I see the wheels turning and he mentally stops himself from going too far. When his lease was coming due for renewal he asked me once if I wanted to move in. Just the once. I demurred, cuz I really like living alone. Besides, you think the Odd Couple were polar opposites when it came to living habits?! It's a miracle the bathroom we shared growing up survived being the buffer zone between us. To give him credit, he never bugged me again and 2 weeks later told me Chet was moving in instead. 

We've been working together more and more. It's been nice, he does know a lot more than I do and I like learning from him. (Just never tell him that.) In fact I think we have 4 cases going on currently. Including one Dad is bringing us in on now even though it's just about over. Kidnapping case. Frank and I are going to be hopefully finding Frisk's son. At least that's the plan. 

Hopefully this will be a Hannibal Smith Plan. I love it when they come together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in the story "Cave In"


End file.
